


expanding

by owlinaminor



Series: avengers 4: thor & bruce work through their trauma [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sketch - freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 01:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15159245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: “The universe is expanding,” he says.You’re half-asleep when he says it, crashed out on your stomach like a rocket ship in one of those old NASA videos he made you watch, plunged out of orbit down into the ocean.  He’s flat on his back, arms at his sides, staring up at the ceiling.You’re half-asleep when he says it, but it snaps you back – if you’re a crashed rocket ship, he is the boat come to pull you back to base.





	expanding

**Author's Note:**

> started writing this on the subway yesterday and i thought it had some nice language so i finished it up. not really sure where it fits into the Theoretical Post-Infinity War Timeline(TM), but cohesive plot is for nerds, so.
> 
> inspired partially by [this article about quantum physics](https://www.quantamagazine.org/real-life-schrodingers-cats-probe-the-boundary-of-the-quantum-world-20180625/) and partially by the kid sitting next to me on the subway who kept saying hello to everyone.

“The universe is expanding,” he says.

You’re half-asleep when he says it, crashed out on your stomach like a rocket ship in one of those old NASA videos he made you watch, plunged out of orbit down into the ocean.  He’s flat on his back, arms at his sides, staring up at the ceiling.

You’re half-asleep when he says it, but it snaps you back – if you’re a crashed rocket ship, he is the boat come to pull you back to base.

“Yeah,” you say.  “Expanding.”

“Doesn’t that freak you out?”  He turns onto his side, props his head up on one elbow.  His face is a collage of shadow – the curves of his cheeks, the angles of his jaw, a curl of hair falling over his forehead, brow furrowed by the weight of the universe.  He is a creature built of shadow, or fighting it.  You’ve never been able to draw but your fingers suddenly ache to trace his profile, to capture it in stone or soft charcoal.  You’ve forgotten the question.

He laughs quietly at your expression, reaches out to trace the curve of your cheek.

“I asked, doesn’t that freak you out,” he says.  “No matter how much we study everything, map everything, write it all down and save it for posterity, there will be new stars exploding into being, new life forming in distant oceans, new paths for evolution that we can’t even begin to comprehend right now.”

“A system without limits,” you say.  It takes a minute for you to catch up, sometimes.  He is two hundred miles an hour – he is the rocket ship, not you, he is the engine and the calculations holding it steady.  He is the shooting star people in distant galaxies will wish upon, and you’re just catching his stardust.

“Right,” he says.  “Terrifying.  I barely understand a fraction of everything on Earth, and that’s just one planet in one solar system in one galaxy – what kind of scientist am I if I can’t keep up?”

“Hey.”  You take his face into your hands.  You do this often, these days, but the feeling is always new, always special.  Such a delicate thing he is, skin so easily burned or charred or broken, but his eyes are hardened as your battleaxe, his jaw is the fulcrum upon which you could move the universe.

“You’re the greatest scientist the world has ever known,” you tell him.

He raises an eyebrow and begins listing names.

“One of the greatest,” you amend.  “Still.  You didn’t get there by knowing everything.  You got there by asking questions and working as hard as you could until you found answers.  You – what’s that word you always use, starts with an _s_ –”

“Specialized,” he finishes for you.  He’s smiling now, you can see it even in the darkness – you can feel the shape with the tip of your thumb.

“You specialized,” you say.  “And you can keep doing that, here on Earth.  But if you ever want to switch specialties, there’s a whole universe of possibilities out there.  Literally.”

“You’re very funny,” he says.

You’re grinning too, now.  You lean in, for the briefest moment, and press your smile to his.

“I know I am,” you tell him.  “And besides – even if you want to keep studying gamma radiation your whole Hulk-extended life, that doesn’t mean you can’t explore other planets, other life forms.  You can enjoy something’s existence without knowing everything about it.  Sometimes it’s even better that way.”

“Are you saying you enjoy my existence better without knowing everything about me?” he asks.

He’s teasing, of course, but you have to consider it – watch the echo of his smile in the darkness and picture the full thing in the daylight, the glint in his eyes when he untangles a problem in his lab, the easy harmony of his fingers linked in yours.  You know everything about him.  Not the complete list of places he’s lived, perhaps, or the address of his undergraduate mentor, or the name of his favorite bagel place in New York City, but you know the pitch of his voice when he is nervous, you know the curve of his cheek in the darkness.  You know the rhythm of his heartbeat when he sleeps, you can tap out an echo on your own chest.

In quantum physics, there is something called a superposition.  He explained it to you once, because he wanted to tell you a story about cats.  Tiny vibrating particles can exist in multiple states at once until you measure them, and then they split in two.  If you told him – there is an entire universe in your throat, swirling galaxies of promises you do not know how to make, and if you put them to words they would flatten – they would split in two.  They would shatter.

He is looking at you.  Waiting for you to answer.  It’s strange, how old he looks in moments like these – even though he is centuries younger, he seems so tiny and frail, so far away.

“Both,” you say.

“What does that mean?”

You gather your strength, count to three in your head, and _pounce_ – and you are turning in one smooth motion – connecting pulling dropping – and he is breathless beneath you, lying on his back on the bed, arms sprawled out.

Lean in, press your mouth to the tip of his ear.

“It’s a superposition,” you whisper.

 _“Thor,”_ he says.

Lick along the curve of the ear, dedicate a moment to a brief bite.

“Yes?”

“I don’t think – that’s not what a superposition is.”

You lift up for a moment, just to make eye contact.  He is brilliant in the darkness – your fingers ache to trace, but why capture his face in stone or charcoal when you could have the real thing.

“Expand your definitions,” you say.  And you lean in again.

**Author's Note:**

> i promise the next fic in this series will be that "thor and bruce go to the bronx zoo" fic i keep talking about on [twitter](https://twitter.com/owlinaminor)


End file.
